


Tragedy

by IdiotCrusader



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Shattered Glass, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 14:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18704098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdiotCrusader/pseuds/IdiotCrusader
Summary: Prowl asks him, once: if anyone was to tell their story, what kind of story would it be?Tarantulas knows the answer for sure.A tragedy.Or the one where Prowl loves Tarantulas very much. So much he keeps him captive and patiently waits for the good days when Tarantulas loved him back to return.





	Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of a huge SG!AU, but it does work as a one-shot so I figured I'll just... leave this here.

"I just don't understand you sometimes," Prowl says. "You could have anything! Anything. If only you would have me back. Why be stubborn?"

He sits on the table, comfortable, at ease. An array of test tubes and scattered tools is pushed aside into a messy pile to accommodate him.

It's a good metaphor for anything and everything Prowl does. Tarantulas almost appreciates the irony: never settling for the second best, pushing everything else aside. Always the one in the spotlight for whoever's attention he fancies.

Tarantulas watches him, silent and unmoving. They've had this conversation before.

"You never cared much for power, I get that." Prowl used to say that often, back in the days. He used to add: that's what makes you special, isn't it? A purely scientific ambition, a radiant unbiased mind. A perfect fit, the problem to Prowl's solution, the undirected wonder to his focused determination.

They could do anything together.

Young Tarantulas used to believe him.

Looking back, Tarantulas wonders if they ever knew each other at all. However the answer, being special to Prowl never fared well to anyone.

"But you must admit, having a lover that can do anything for you has its advantages. Any wish, anytime. Imagine how far your research could go with all the resources I have access to. The things you could achieve! And I am very willing to deliver, Tarantulas." Prowl smiles at him, promising and sweet.

The sweetness leaves a bitter aftertaste.

"I could never be mad at you.. not for long, anyway. Aren't you tired of this misery circus? Me, holding you here like a prisoner? Unheard of."

Ironically, it is the only way they affair could ever end. If Prowl wishes to believe otherwise, it doesn't make it true.

He is, perhaps, fully aware of the fact.

"Just give me one reason to think you're cooperating. Take note of my noble-mindedness, I'm not even asking you to love me back again... yet. Merely to be reasonable."

It's at times like this, when Prowl brings 'love' out to the table, Tarantulas almost feels like he's going to beg. With the same fervent, improbable sincerity only Prowl could ever manage.

Tarantulas struggles to imagine anything more repulsive.

Prowl watches him, waiting for an answer - even though he's easily known the outcome of this conversation before entering the room.

It's not something we would need his battle computer for. Common sense could do. They've tried far enough times to become predictable.

"You don't have what it takes to convince me", Tarantulas replies curtly.

There is barely any point in explaining. If Prowl could be reasoned with, they wouldn't have been in this situation altogether.

Tarantulas supposes he has nothing else to do. Prowl's presence is bothersome. He wishes to be left alone with his experiments.

Solitary imprisonment has a bright side after all. He gets to be alone most of the time, and Tarantulas finds it quite desirable in comparison to this.

Prowl claps his hands together. He is neither upset nor offended - the only emotion Tarantulas can make out from his face is vague curiosity.

This is the expression of a scientist looking down the microscope. A little sceptical, a little intrigued.

Tarantulas would know, of course.

"Do I not, now?" Prowl wonders aloud. "Tell me, then. What is it I don't have, Tarantulas? I'm genuinely at loss here. Care to clarify?"

Being honest gains nothing.

Lying gains less.

"You are selfish, Prowl. Far too self-absorbed to ever really love anyone but yourself."

They hold each other's gaze. "No matter what I say or want, you would not understand or listen, because it's always about you."

Being honest gains — nothing.

It takes a moment of chilling, threat-filled silence.

And then Prowl breaks into laughter.

Tarantulas waits. And waits.

Patiently, because there's nothing else he can be.

"I can't even..." Prowl shakes his head, grinning as if unbelievable amused. "Oh, Tarantulas, you truly are special. No one else would ever dare to say anything resembling that sweet joke of yours to me. Pathetic, aren't they all nowadays?" It's not a joke, and they both know it, and it doesn't matter at all. "First you accuse me of being too much, run away from me, and now I'm the cold and selfish one? Brilliant. I love it. Your sense of humour must be on top of the list of the things I love you for. Did I tell you there was a list?"

He did. The List - capital L, special 'romantic' font - got sent to Tarantulas, over and over, every time Prowl would come up with a new point.

The first few went like that:

1\. YOU ARE MINE  
2\. YOU ARE _MINE_  
3\. YOU ARE—

Prowl gets up and leans closer to plant a chaste, innocent kiss on one of Tarantulas' mandibles. Tarantulas doesn't recoil. He's been struggling to see the point of fighting it for a while.

It would be so easy, to pretend it's almost like the good old times, like nothing ever happened and whatever twisted parody of love Prowl wanted, he could still play along - and enjoy it.

Tarantulas merely can't bring himself to want it. Not anymore.

And that, in the end, is what makes their story so tragic.


End file.
